


Sour Grapes to Honey

by Yuliares



Series: ἦθος ἀνθρώπῳ δαίμων [1]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Asphodel - Freeform, Conversations, Cooking Lessons, Gen, Gift Giving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22228054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuliares/pseuds/Yuliares
Summary: Eurydice's little island is a welcome repreive amongst the lava lakes of Asphodel, and Zagreus finds himself helping out in the kitchen.
Series: ἦθος ἀνθρώπῳ δαίμων [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613122
Comments: 12
Kudos: 154





	Sour Grapes to Honey

It was a welcome sight to see Eurydice’s little island come into view, the small boat bumping against the dock with a hiss of lava. Zagreus smiled at the familiar sound of her singing, and eagerly limped up the steps leading from the dock. He could hardly remember how many times he had taken the same path. Now, he followed the comforting scent of baking bread drifting from her kitchen.

“Something smells good,” he said.

The tall dryad smiled at him as he entered, not pausing in her task. “Hello again, Your Majesty!” she said, and her sharp knife sliced through the bright lemon before her. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

“Not how I planned it,” said Zagreus, resting his elbows on the high counter and watching her cut neat wedges, flicking the seeds out with a flash of the blade.

Eurydice laughed. “Few things go according to plan, hon. You aren’t looking so great though. Pull up a stool.” 

She gestured, and Zagreus was surprised to see that there was indeed a small stool, tucked right by the table, and he gratefully sank into it. “Oh, that’s nice. Is this new?”

“It sure is! I’m always keeping an eye out for a good deal—built this place one piece at a time."

“Hm," said Zagreus, and let himself relax as her knife reduced a glossy onion to a finely chopped mince. The sting in his eyes was a nice distraction from the throbbing burns striping his legs. He had taken some missteps, and received painful reminders that shallow lava was _still lava_ , and best left alone unless you were a boat.

Eurydice scooped the minced onion upon the flat of the blade, and dumped it into a large mortar set beside her cutting board, which she also squeezed the lemon into. The bright citrus scent brought him from his lull, and he stood reluctantly.

"I should get going,” Zagreus said.

“What’s the hurry? You hungry, yeah?” Eurydice said, dumping something else into the mortar. “Just a few minutes till the bread’s done. You can help with me with the meze, enjoy it fresh.”

“Oh, uhh...” said Zagreus, taking a step back. “I don’t-”

“Here,” she said, lifting the large stone mortar with one hand and shoving it into his hands. 

It was heavier than he expected, and he fumbled before he sat back down in surprise, mortar clasped securely and resting on his lap. “Whew, that’s hefty.” 

Eurydice laughed.

“What is this?” he asked, looking down. On top of the onion and lemon, the mortar was full of small, round spheres that gleamed.

“Roe! And wet bread crusts, at the bottom.” Eurydice held out the pedestal. “Start grinding, your Royal Highness!”

Zagreus took it hesitantly. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do... I’ve never prepared food before. Eating isn’t something we do often in my father's realm.”

“Don’t see it stopping me from cooking up a storm!” said Eurydice, and reached over to flip the pedestal in his hand around. “There. Now press it all up against the sides, like - yes, you got it, hon!” she said, sounding pleased. “Mix it up - we want our _taramoslata_ to be a nice, even paste.”

“All right,” said Zagreus. It felt weird, pressing the different shapes in the mortar around. It began releasing a salty, pungent smell as the roe began to pop.

Eurydice leaned up against her oven, hand on hip, as he continued to work. The contents of the mortar were thickening, and Zagreus had to adjust his grip on the pedestal to keep his hand from cramping. He glanced back at Eurydice. She seemed to be thinking.

“You know, hon,” she said finally, “You may not _need_ to eat, but I’m sure you’ve noticed—a good meal or drink replenishes you. Not just your health, but your spirit. And it brings people together too, you know?”

Zagreus thought of the ambrosia he smuggled back from his… trips. _It’s nothing_ , he always said. Whether they thanked him or berated him, he just… kept doing it. It was a gift he liked giving. “Indeed,” he said, meeting Eurydice’s thoughtful gaze.

Eurydice nodded and turned back to her oven, humming as she grabbed the bread paddle and pulled a round loaf of bread out, golden and steaming.

“We’ll let that cool a bit,” she said, grabbing a jar with a spout and returning to the table. “This is the last step—keep stirring as I drizzle in this olive oil.”

Zagreus nodded and adjusted his grip again, the light pink mixture in the mortar smoothing out with the addition of the thick, fragrant oil.

Eurydice set the jar aside. “Done! You can stop now, hon.”

Zagreus gratefully set the pedestal aside, and flexed his fingers. “That’s harder than it looks.”

“Now you see why I asked you to stay,” she said, winking.

He placed the mortar on the table, and she brought the cutting board over, the bread still steaming. As she cut the first slice, crisp crust crackling, the aroma of fresh bread came billowing out, nearly overwhelming the ever-present sulfurous stench of Asphodel. Zagreus closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

Eurydice indicated the spread with a flourish. “Eat up!”

“After you,” said Zagreus, and mimicked her as she took a slice of bread and spread the meze on top of it. The bread was warm in his hands as he took his first bite.

“Wow, that’s good,” said Zagreus, surprised. The taste was briny and fresh, and surprisingly smooth atop the thick bread.

Eurydice gave him an affronted look. “Of course it’s good—it’s my recipe! Fit for Royalty!”

Zagreus chuckled. “Of course. It’s wonderful, as always.”

“You did well with the mortar,” she said, and slid a small bowl of olives towards him. He selected a small, green fruit—it was a good contrast, earthen and cool on his tongue. He took another bite of the _taramosalata_.

Too soon, the slice was gone. Eurydice was still chewing at an olive pit, humming softly when Zagreus stood. 

“On your way then?” she asked.

“Yes. Thank you for the food. And the cooking lesson.”

“Anytime,” she said. “It was nice to have someone else in the kitchen. Now, you know the rule—what’ll you have?”

Zagreus looked at the table, the fresh bread and the meze, ground by his own hands.

“Can I have some more of this?” he asked, and Eurydice immediately grabbed a thick slice and began spreading it generously with the _taramoslata_.

“Take care, hon.” she said, and held it out.

Zagreus took it with a smile. “Till next time.” He leapt off the platform, his burns now faded to a dull ache, and quickly strode towards the small boat that awaited him, lashed bones bobbing gently in the bubbling lake. 

Behind him, he could hear Eurydice begin to sing.


End file.
